


The Key to Surviving is Thriving

by Sniper_Blue



Series: The Keys [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Pre-Program Society, bond dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-16 12:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10570911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sniper_Blue/pseuds/Sniper_Blue
Summary: Transformers AU. He was on loan when the unthinkable happened, his surviving quad on the other side of the world, which resulted in a decommissioning. Survival was paramount, but not guaranteed even before war broke out and demanded a side be picked. In the long run, something else became more important than individual survival.





	1. Meet the Medic

**Author's Note:**

> Looking for a beta, if anyone is interested.

Chapter One: Meet the Medic

 

_ ‘You’re joining the Autobots?’ _ his quadmate asked over their secure commline.

_ ‘I doubt I would hold up well with the Decepticons,’  _ he replied.  _ ‘We’re slowly deactivating, unable to get enough energon or food.’ _

_ ‘Then we’re hedging our bets and I’m joining the Decepticons?’  _ the other queried, already knowing the answer.

_ ‘Your frame is better suited to their faction’s beliefs, just as my preferred form is going to fascinate the scientists.’ _

He felt a surge of affection brush against his spark and smiled softly. His quadmate always had been able to anticipate him from just a short word or sentence. He sent his own brush of affection back as he squared his shoulders and hitched his wings into an authoritative position.

There was an audible huff across the commline.  _ ‘It’s a good thing I was over in Helex on this job then. I’ll just sign up here after I finish.’ _

He hummed softly, pleased that his plan could go into action so soon for his quadmate.  _ ‘I will be signing up at Kalis,’ _ he stated as he followed the line of mecha entering the city, scanning his ident chip as he went and sending a shiver up his arm.

_ ‘You had a science work permit?’ _

_ ‘No, a record keeper permit that I have already finished, but is still valid by date.’ _

His quadmate chuckled.  _ ‘Of course  _ you _ would figure out how to make that work.’ _

The commline cut off abruptly, not that he was expecting any different. The other mech had always been like that and there was no changing it at this late date. He turned his focus to navigating the beltways to the Autobot Recruitment Center, transforming into a predatory speedster and smoothly joining traffic. With the speeds allowed, he was across the city within several short breems and stepping off the beltway to stride up the stairs of the Recruitment Center with an outward confidence he did not feel. His wings were folded tightly behind his frame, the top of the first joint rising past his helm and broadcasting his unease in frame language that was not readable to those around him.

A frontline-framed soldier stepped forward, looking him up and down surreptitiously even as he spoke. “What can I do for you?”

“I am requesting admittance into the Autobot ranks,” he replied, posture becoming impossibly straighter than it already was. He had reverted to his earliest formal training in his distress. He had not been Forged for this, having been meant to specialize in staying as unnoticed as possible and to have that ability augmented by further training.

The frontliner grinned crookedly, motioning for him to enter the building first. “You’ll wanna go to the far desk,” he instructed, waving to the south-east corner of the building. “They’ll take yer general stats and distinguishers and get ya yer appointment with the medics. After that, the medics will direct ya to the Evaluators. From there-” he shrugged. “Ya’ll find out.”

“My thanks,” he said, with a dip of his wings signifying the same.

“Jus’ try ta avoid the scientists if ya can. Yer frame don’t look like it’s common and they would love to get their hands on ya. Not always a good thing, if ya get my drift,” the frontliner advised, even as he returned to his position by the entrance.

He almost hesitated as he strode towards the sign in desk. What was he thinking, purposely separating he and his quadmate? Such a thing was seldom done, even in their former line of work, because it could put too much of a strain on their sparks and cause complications in their systems that, if they were not reunited shortly thereafter, would usually lead to deactivation. The numbers rarely lied though, and if nothing else, they had to survive. All they had to do was become indispensable to their respective factions - the only real question left was in how they were to accomplish that goal.

There was not a line at this Recruitment Center in Kalis, possibly because it was located right by the majority of the scientific laboratories. The Autobots would probably have to go to the scientists themselves on a recruiting mission if they wished for them to join their ranks, but the location could have been as a strategic jumping off point for the recruiters that did go meet with them. He gave a mental shrug and pushed the question away as the mech manning the desk greeted him.

“Welcome to the Autobot Recruitment Center in northern Kalis, I am Valence. May I scan your ident chip?” the slenderly built mech asked, orange optics showing just how much time he spent there without much outside interaction in how bright they were.

He held out his arm, palm up and wrist bent to expose the chip where he had it implanted many vorns before for easy access - and easy concealment. It was an uncommon placement, usually only used by those that either had to have theirs scanned frequently or those who needed to conceal their original ident chip, though the latter was not widely known.

Valence gave no indication that it was something he had only just come across, something that Prowl had been counting on to help disguise his origins. Once he had input the scan to the datapad, he continued. “There are just a few questions that I have to ask before I can schedule you with a medic. Do you mind taking a seat so that we can get started?”

Prowl folded his frame down into the inappropriate chair, having to hike his wings up high to hang over the arms without crushing the joints and to keep them free of entanglement. “What are your questions?”

“They’re just basics,” the white mech stated, glancing up from the datapad to look at the unusually framed mech seated before him. “Where you currently have a work permit, what your bond status is, if you know anyone within the Autobot ranks, or if you may know anyone else who will join. Your ident chip holds most of the information I am required to ask, which makes it redundant and something that isn’t usually bothered with. Those are actually the only four questions I have to ask.”

“My current work permit is through the Kalisian Science Institute, I have only ever had one bond and it is not what it used to be, and I have no knowledge of anyone in the Autobot ranks or of anyone else that would be willing to join.” The simplicity of what was asked left much to be desired, in his humble opinion. Nothing was asked in regards to possible security breaches or any contacts within the Decepticons. He also would have asked about personality and about the possible fighting abilities the mecha may possess. There were a number of missed opportunities within this process that were being overlooked by a mech that did not seem to have been trained for his position.

With that information input to the form Valence was working on, the smaller mech stood and motioned for Prowl to follow him. “Our medic may or may not be available, though she is supposed to be. She has a habit of taking in any mech off the street that she believes to be in disrepair. If she isn’t available right away, just wait for her to acknowledge you and she will do your medical evaluation. I hope, for your sake, that you are not in major disrepair as she does not take kindly to mecha that do not take care of their frame.”

“Thank you,” Prowl stated, taking the datapad handed him and the seat that he was motioned towards. He was situated just inside the makeshift med bay’s interior entrance and to the right of the doors, taking him out of the way, but still leaving him quite visible to anyone within the room. It was not a bad layout, despite the fact that the room was open enough that his processor was attempting to tell him that he needed to find cover. It suited the needs of the mecha that spent their functioning there, plus he knew that his programming had never been the most conventional - and was even less so after all these vorns.

There was little for him to do as he waited for anyone to appear within the medical bay. He would have liked the companionship of his quadmate over his comm line, but did not want to disturb the mech as he was unsure what he was doing at that time. There would be a short message, flagged as important, available for him whenever he would be able to contact the mech. It was a system that had been set up long before, back when they were still fourth frame younglings and in training, though did not come into being until they had learned to resist any processor hacking.

Eventually, after he had resorted to having downloaded a game and begun playing it on his still-recessed visor, a femme emerged from the opposite side of the room, towing a fifth frame youngling in behind her by the chevron tip. With the medical markings displayed prominently on both frames, he came to the conclusion that she was the medic he was supposed to have an appointment with and the unlucky mechling being brought in was an apprentice that had somehow misbehaved. His wings mantled close to his frame in a useless attempt present himself as less of a target, though he had no need to as most of her attention was on her wayward apprentice.

After having berated her apprentice to her satisfaction, she left him to tend to his slight injury and turned her focus on the new mech within her domain. “What’s your reason for being here?” she asked brusquely, though not unkindly, her frame language changing to become much more welcoming and open.

He raised the datapad in his possession even as he answered, “Valence told me that I was to wait here until the medic arrived to give me a medical evaluation. Was that wrong?”

She huffed a short laugh. “That wasn’t wrong, youngling. I’ll need you on the berth. What’s your designation?” she asked even as she reached to take the datapad from the young mech while he moved further into her domain and revealed more of his frame to her scrutiny. It was definitely one that she had no prior experience with, one that she had never even had any instruction in through either her mentor or the textbooks she had studied so thoroughly back in Protihex Medical Mechanics University.

“My designation is Prowl, medic,” he answered, his wings lifting so that he could take a seat on the med bay berth before they resettled close to his frame, though spread further than they had been. He was very uneasy, though it was not obvious through his frame language, both by design and by the sheer unfamiliarity of the frame type to any other that was currently made.

“Torque,” she introduced herself, taking in the lightweight frame before her with unrestrained curiosity. Hopefully he would be assigned to her regular base, as most of those from the Kalis Recruitment Centers were, so that she could actually learn about the frame in front of her. If her quick searches on the DataNet were correct, then it was an extinct subclass of frames that had last been seen several millennia ago. Also revealed were the common specs of the frame as had been documented by medics that had been allowed to study them before they were entirely extinct. “Is there anything that you believe to be wrong with your frame? How well have you been able to keep up with the upkeep of your frame?”

He took a moment to catalogue his frame, looking over all of the low-grade warnings that had built up since he and his quadmate had been deemed unusable and decommissioned. “There is nothing that requires a lot, but I am low on several fluids and have some minor joint wear that could be taken care of. We -  _ I _ have also not had access to supplements in some time and could benefit from several, though I am not quite sure if my list is comprehensive. The only other thing that could cause problems is that I no longer have control over the micro-transformation for my claws. I am relegated to just my digits.”

The care he took in answering was appreciated, though she was still going to do a thorough check through the entirety of his frame and programming. Torque would have a better idea of what she would recommend he be considered for in relation to training for the Autobot army that was forming. She connected to the datapad via a hardline and skimmed through the information even as she turned to pick up a scanner that she would start with. “It says here that you have a bond but that it is ‘not what it used to be’. Can you elaborate on what you mean by that?”

“May I have your confidentiality and that portion of my medical file locked?” he requested, the longest feathers of his wings flexing slightly to signify his nervousness.

That brought her attention spinning back to him. Whatever information he had to share was going to be a bombshell, as it normally was when such a request was made. “Should I lock your medical file to the medical caste or should it be to my ident chip?”

His wings relaxed minutely in relief. Getting on the bad side of any medic was unwise and he had been unsure whether this would land him there or not. “I would prefer it be locked to your ident chip and, if you would like, also to your apprentice’s ident chip. It is sensitive information and not something that most are aware is possible.”

“I am drawing up the paperwork,” she stated as she filled out the required forms and uploaded them to to the datapad she was still connected to. Looking through the history connected to his ident chip, she discovered that it was almost too clean and showed the history of an overachiever that had faced a number of different hardships. She handed the datapad back to the winged mech and waited for him to sign his glyph below hers. She had taken the option of also allowing her apprentice access, being a practical femme that knew the war was going to escalate further than many currently believed.

He handed it back to her even as he began to answer her unvoiced prompting. “I was brought online as part of a Quad that began life as a third frame youngling so that we could absorb all of our training to a subconscious level without it being programmed in. We had much more to learn than what a normal pre-programmed mecha needed. My surviving quadmate and I were decommissioned upon the death of our other two quadmates and turned out onto the streets to fend for ourselves. Do you know much about Quads?”

“I know the basics that are taught, but have had no contact with any myself. Not many Quads are created as there is not a high demand for them.”

“No, we are not in high demand. There has to be a specific need and we are considered to be worthless after even one member dies. What most do not know, or understand, is that those that have their frames deactivated do not always also have their spark extinguished. That spark will then join with one of the others in the quad and they will fuse together. Both my quadmate and I were fortunate enough to have both of our quadmates’ sparks be of the type that joined with ours. Normally, those that do not have that ability are driven insane with bond-loss and grief. According to the medic that examined us afterwards, we now read as having a bond that is similar to that of twins. There is little to no literature on this that I am aware of, so I am unsure how we will be affected by distance or separation of any type.”

She went over the information again before finally saying something. “Twins, I have some experience with. We will have to monitor your situation closely so that we can make sure that you do not deteriorate, though I would feel better to also have your quadmate under my, and my apprentice’s, care. I’m going to still do a full work up of your frame, though I would have to in light of this information in any case. I had been planning on doing so anyway as there are no current scans of your frame type and we will have to have a baseline for any improvements or deterioration. Do you have any contact information for your quadmate that can be made available to us in case something does happen to destabilize your spark or you are almost deactivated, as that can put a strain on the bond as well?”

“I have his comm line number and have entered it in the form. It is as secure as we could make it, but there is always the possibility that it could be hacked.” His wings lifted again before resettling around him.

“You also stated that you are a preprogram that was brought online as a third frame youngling, correct?” she verified. His answering nod was enough. “Normally, pre-programs are brought online in their final adult frame. What function did your Quad serve for that to not have been sufficient?”

“We were Black Ops for the Praxian Enforcers, tasked with taking down the crime families and some of the gangs. Technically, we are law enforcement caste, but we were trained on how to craft new identities and blend seamlessly into any caste that we were operating within, with the exception of the medical caste. One of my quadmates was a trained medic, however. He made sure that we had a list of medics he had come in contact with that he would trust with our care.” In fact, the only reason that he had put the plan into effect was that he had done some digging and some spying to find out which medic was stationed at the recruitment center. He had no idea how Traction had come in contact with Torque, but was not going to question his luck.

She vaguely recalled having heard something about that at some point in her career, but had never had any contact with any mecha from that caste after she graduated from the University. Her studies had been focused more on crash-related injuries and large-scale trauma, which those in the law enforcement caste seemed to rarely be involved in for all that they worked with, and through, all of the incidents. Even when they were involved, they were treated by their own medics. As she thought further, she realized that she had never met a medic that was specially trained for the law enforcement caste and had to wonder whether that was intentional or not. Perhaps, like the mech sitting before her, even the medics were preprograms.

He felt the scanner run over his frame, tingles tracing its path across his plating. That, at least, was familiar. Both he and his surviving quadmate had been run through so many scans and tests in the last several vorns that they were almost immune to the feeling by now, no longer twitching as it passed over their frames like most mecha did. There was little for him to do as the femme finished her testing and filled out some forms, so he returned to the game he had been playing previously.

As she finished, she turned to her cabinet and scanned her ident chip across the lock. The mech was correct in saying that he had not had access to all of the proper additives for his frame in a while as he was quite low on some necessary ones. He would have to suffer through the unpleasant taste of medical additives until he returned to the proper levels and could return to the varied cuisines from around the planet, not that the Autobots had a wide variety or that they paid well enough for the mecha to partake in restaurant trips. In fact, they were quite limited in their selection, even in their regards to the cities and city-states they did have represented.

“I have to ask, though I doubt you have many due to your previous occupation, but do you have any reservations about any of the positions within the Autobot ranks? Mentally, are you prepared for what you would have to do for any of them?” she asked. It was always nice to know beforehand if someone was prone to flying off the handle when it came to something they could be assigned to. Many of the mecha that had applied for a rank did have reservations about some things, so they had been assigned to specific areas in such a way as to minimize their exposure to those limits.

The young mech laughed lowly, feathers flicking, at the question. “I have no reservations about anything I would have to do in regards to functioning within an army. My only reservation is in regards to the other mecha that I will be stationed with as I was Forged as part of a Quad and do not have all of the same social skills that a normal mech would have, though I was trained well in how to hide the lack.”

She hummed softly, entering what she considered to be pertinent information on the forms contained by the datapad. If he had no reservations, then she was not going to include any suggestions for the performance evaluator to consider. Sometimes the medical recommendations were the only ones considered and limiting this mech did not seem like it would be one of the smartest ideas.

“I will have Spotweld show you where the evaluator is since he is also scheduled for training soon. Be prepared, Vicegrip is one of the more strict evaluators that we have within the Autobot ranks so far, and he is liable to stay there.”

“I will keep that in mind,” he stated, standing and stretching his frames and his wings before resettling his feathers and plating.


	2. A Strict Evaluation

Chapter Two: A Strict Evaluation

 

“You’re in for a real treat,” the fifth frame youngling, Spotweld, stated as they approached the open area set aside for the evaluations. It was currently on the loud side with a deep, carrying voice echoing over the sound of weapons fire and the simulated din of a pitched battle. “Vicegrip doesn’t normally have these going on and they’re always exciting to watch. He’s been training the Kalis Militia and Enforcers while he’s been stationed here since he watched one of their training sessions and declared it worthless in actually preparing anyone.” The small blue and white youngling motioned towards the lithe, forest green mech that was frowning at a small group of mechs participating in what appeared to be a brawl. “That’s Vicegrip. He’s Weapons Master, Evaluator, and Trainer all in one, formerly part of Sentinel Prime’s Guard. He had to fight hard to be able to join the Autobot army instead of staying with the Guard as he is not technically part of the warrior caste, but the elite warrior caste. Moronic to make that distinction, I would think, but that is how the Council works.”

Prowl hummed noncommittally. He knew, from experience, that sometimes the caste system did actually work, but that not all sparks that came into being were suited to what they were tasked with either. Sparks were much more flexible than many mecha believed, as was evidenced by his Quad’s creation.

“I’ll introduce you to him, but you’re on your own after that. I have to meet up with Smokeglass to begin my training for the orn.”

They wandered over towards the mech slowly, Spotweld letting the winged mech get a good look around himself to see what was liable to happen during his evaluation. When the finally reached him, the seemingly delicately constructed mech was already sizing up the new recruit. He could see that he carried himself with almost a warrior’s confidence, despite the fact that he had two large targets on his back that could easily bring him low. It was almost disconcerting to watch him because his frame appeared so vulnerable.

“Evaluator Vicegrip,” Spotweld greeted with a nod. “This is Prowl. He’s a new recruit, originally out of Praxus.”

With that, the apprentice left them and headed to the far side of the designated area to begin his training. He was not looking forward to it as his instructor was easily frustrated and wanted him to learn faster than he was.

Vicegrip blatantly looked over the frame in front of him to see if the mech would bristle like some of his recruits did, but he was too calm and stoic for that to ruffle his feathers apparently. It was a rather pretty frame, even in the subdued storm grey and indigo the mech wore, that did not seem to be overly practical, especially for war. It would be easy to secret weapons about though, unlike a majority of war framed mecha. He moved with loose limbs, though it could be hard to tell as the frame was such an unfamiliar type. He needed to be put through his paces against a wide variety of mecha to see what he was capable of.

“What are your preferred weapons?” he asked, looking back out over the off-duty Enforcers that were currently in training.

“I can use just about anything,” came the reply as the younger mech turned to look where he was. “My least proficient areas are in blasters and non-specialty guns, actually. Along with that, there are no inbuilt weapons on my frame except for defensive ones.”

Filing that information away, he commented, “Inbuilt offensive weaponry can be overrated. Mecha have to understand their use and the appropriate application of them.”

They watched for a few more long moments as the Enforcers sparred. The ends of Prowl’s wings flicked in dismissal. It was almost futile to work with Enforcers and try to teach them new takedowns, he knew from experience. That had been part of the reason that his Quad had been created instead of more Enforcers being requested. They were still wonderful sparring partners as they soaked up any defensive moves like a sponge and enjoyed the roughhousing that came with such friendly spars. Joining them would be an enjoyable experience, but may reveal more than he truly wanted to someone other than a medic. Black Ops was not something to mention lightly to most mecha.

“I’ll pair you up with an Enforcer first, since I have them here now, and see how you do. From there, I want to see how you do on the range and with blades. After that, I’ll have some of the Militia in and I want to see how you do against a warrior caste.” He turned and stepped off the small platform he had been overlooking the Enforcers from and headed out onto the mats. The pair he had arrowed towards straightened and turned to face him as he approached. “Spar with this mech for me. I want to see what he can do and what he has no counters to.”

The Enforcers attempted to passively scan the mech for anything of interest, but had their scans rebuffed by the mech’s electromagnetic field before anything could be gathered. They were pinged - on a secure, Enforcer only channel that none outside of the law enforcement caste’s pre-programs were aware of - for their identity information as the mech finally became fully visible behind Vicegrip as he stepped to the side. Most systems would not have even recognized that any information was trying to be obtained, let alone rebuff that attempt. In fact, the only ones usually able to do so were other pre-programs as they were the most sensitive to such an occurrence. All other castes commonly did so in a social setting, along with allowing their fields to expand and mingle instead of keeping them contained.

“Yes, sir. When would you like for us to begin?” the one to the left asked. His was the slightly bulkier frame, an asset in bringing in large, combative mechs. Normally, he would be more than enough to take down a frame as fragile as the one before him, but with such an expert deflection of their pings, he was more worried about his chances than he had ever been.

“Whenever you are comfortable, Riskstep,” Vicegrip replied, removing himself from the immediate vicinity.

The winged mech stood loose limbed, though not obviously. He had already sized up his sparring partners and felt relatively comfortable about taking them down. It would take a bit longer than he would usually consider proper, but he was not in a life and death situation or extremely familiar with the frame type. This was also supposed to be used as a way to showcase what he was capable of, which he would have to careful about as revealing everything, even to an ally, was not to be considered.

Riskstep approached cautiously, crouching low and preparing to tackle the mech bodily from his feet. He was not confident in this approach, however, as the mech had wings and, in Kalis, very few were able to fly so he had never had to apprehend a flyer before. As he started his rush, he saw him crouch and almost somersault over his frame in an avoidance maneuver that would be difficult for most frames to accomplish. Over the next few breems, he was unable to land even a glancing blow, let alone take him down. He was never there, always gone before Riskstep could reach him, though he never saw how. It was disconcerting. Mecha weren’t supposed to be able to move like that.

“Offensive!” Vicegrip called, getting frustrated by the endless dodging and weaving instead of something to truly evaluate.

The next time Riskstep tried taking him down, he was on the mat before his processor even registered that he had been touched. It was jarring and, before he knew it, the mech was crouched beside him and helping him flip over onto his back.

“Are you alright?” he asked, skimming his hands knowingly over the Enforcer’s frame and running a passive scan. “No warnings popping up? Nothing feels off?”

Riskstep looked up at the winged mech with a confused familiarity at the concern. It was so much like a medic that had treated him several vorn before that it was almost chilling. He knew about the medic’s deactivation through the Cybertron-wide broadcasts that went out over the private, and viciously guarded, pre-program comm line. There had been something on that same broadcast about the Quad the medic had been a part of still partially existing - a rare occurrence.

“You’re….. One of….. Us,” he wheezed, still trying to get his systems to settle and redistribute after the hit they had taken. “Enforcer.”

The winged mech nodded minutely, small enough of a movement to be taken as a loosening of tension. It was enough of an affirmative for the larger mech and he relaxed under the mech’s ministrations. The Enforcer he had been sparring with earlier was scrutinizing the interaction, unsure of the mech that had just taken his partner down without any apparent effort, and was surprised to see his frame relax with someone that was not obviously of their caste. They, as a caste, were allowed to touch mecha outside of theirs, but were always wary about it, knowing that any wrong move could be grounds for a punishment up to, and including, deactivation. The only caste that did not have that restriction was that of the medics, and sometimes even they were brought up on charges.

Vicegrip did not notice, still going over what had just happened and replaying the file from his memory banks to make sure he had not missed anything. The mech just had moved too fast. Not everything had been recorded. It was an impossibility - though, apparently, it was not impossible as the mech had just done so. Such speed could be a great asset on the field, but would take some time and training to integrate properly into the tactics that were commonly used. Such a mech would not do well to be part of the heavy hitters - his frame did not appear to be strong enough for him to join one of those units anyway - and neither would he do well as a base defender - they were kept too stationary. Two areas he would definitely excel in were a frontline unit and within the shadowy depths of Special Operations, if he had the weapons skills to supplement the speed. If not, all he would be useful for would be as part of the Messenger Corps, which would be a pity and not something he was expecting. Before he made his decision, however, he would have to see how the rest of his evaluation went.

He had a good feeling about this mech, even as he beckoned him over once Riskstep had recovered. Concern for even the enemy may not be the easiest thing to deal with, but it could be managed through careful consideration and he was not the only mech or femme to join that had that same reluctance. “I know that you said that you were not that good with a blaster, but I will be testing you on short, medium, and long range weaponry. We’ll start with short range and work out from there. The firing range is to the south side of the training area.”

Prowl followed the dark green mech as he made his way through the training Enforcers, stopping to offer a word of advice or criticism to each of the pairs they passed. From what the winged mech could hear, they were things that could actually work with the Enforcer coding and not cause conflicts. Very few mecha understood the difference between Enforcers and other mecha at the base coding level. It was impossible for most to intentionally kill or cause more damage than necessary to subdue a subject without a direct order from a superior officer that was not a pre-program - Prowl himself was one of the few exceptions, and there had been less than one hundred mecha Forged for the Enforcers who were able to since even before the Golden Age had begun.

The gun range that they entered was pristine, weapons neatly racked along the wall that the door they came through was situated on with targets lined up on the opposite wall and a number of maneuverable targets off to the side. If someone stepped into the line of fire, then it had to be done intentionally. In fact, he was quite impressed with the sight. It was one of the best ranges he had ever had the privilege of stepping into.

“So,” Vicegrip started, picking a blaster up from where it was carefully mounted on the wall and efficiently checking it over before handing it to the gray and indigo mech. “We’ll start with blasters. Just use up the energy pack on the targets and we’ll check your accuracy afterwards.” He stepped back to watch the way the blaster was handled and how the mech took his shots.

Prowl went over his own check of the blaster and energy pack, carefully inspecting the majority of the pieces. He fired a couple of test shots down the range to get a general feel for the gun before he began really firing with intent. As he did so, his wings flared, sensors gathering further information about his surroundings. Vicegrip registered quite clearly, as did every weapon that hung behind him, though something slowly began to bother him about one of them and the way that it was registering across his field of sensory input.

As soon as he finished, Vicegrip stepped forward, sending a code to the control systems of the room to bring the targets forward for his inspection. He gave nothing away even as the thin top sheets were replaced and he handed a shotgun over next. After that came the rifle. With each successive weapon, they moved further and further from the targets, though the range was not quite long enough for a true test of his abilities with a rifle, though it was the one he seemed to be most familiar with and comfortable using.

Prowl looked at him expectantly after finishing his round with the rifle and re-racking the weapon on the wall. Vicegrip produced a set of specially balanced knives from his subspace that he had had designed for just this sort of circumstance, though there had been no need for them until now. He would not have trusted any of the other recruits that had passed through with a bladed weapon considering how they had handled the energy weapons they had been tested with at the range. Amber optics lit at the appearance of the blades, though the reaction was tempered and did not reach much further than that.

“You’ll be throwing these at the same targets,” he stated, handing them over, unactivated.

They were handled almost reverently, their weight and balance tested quickly and efficiently before the stormy colored mech spun quickly and launched one down the range from where they were standing. Each of the other six followed quickly after to cluster closely around the first. There would be no denying that the mech before him was quite proficient with a throwing knife, which was a skill that took a fair amount of practice.

He did not even need to bring the target back to them to know that they were clustered right around the center. As he deactivated and lowered the energy blades, he contemplated his next move. There was little need to test him on how well he would do with a longer blade and not enough room to accomplish a sufficient evaluation. With as much effort as had to have gone into learning how to throw knives, he was probably a fair blade fighter of some sort.

Later, as he watched the same mech dance around the Militia mecha, he pondered on what he had learned of the mech. If he were a commander, he would want such a mech on the front lines of the battles, but with how efficiently and silently the mech moved, he knew that the mecha of Special Operations were likely to conscript him into their ranks. All he could do was pass on his observations and wait to find out where he was placed.

He took the datapad that Prowl handed him that contained his medical report in a separate file and added his own observations and evaluation with his recommendation for placement in a separate file. Later, he would enter this into the server and have it sent to the Autobot commanders for the mech’s placement to begin. There would be further tests, those written, and then he would be pushed through training for whichever department he was placed in before being sent out to a base.

“I will get this entered and sent off. Do you have lodging for the next several orns while your information is considered and your position assigned?” he asked, stowing the datapad away again before looking back at the mech.

“I do. Will I be contacted directly or will a message be sent for me to return to the recruitment center? My work permit does expire shortly and I would need some way to be allowed back into this part of Kalis if I am to return here.”

“If we need to, we will send you a temporary pass to enter this area. I am unsure how long the process will take, so be prepared for a message at any moment. The Autobots will assist with any loose ends at the time that you are accepted and assigned a position. Do you need assistance returning to the entrance?”

“No, sir, but thank you.”

“Then you can take your leave. You will be contacted, most likely by the Iaconian Training Coordinator, and given your assignment.”

Prowl nodded, his wings dipping in acknowledgement as well, before spinning and making his way through the Militia mecha carefully, feeling all of the questioning optics on his back. It was enough to tighten his cables in discomfort and in a readiness to move and fight. His movements became even more tightly controlled, though it was hard to tell without knowing his frame very well.

The drive back to the housing unit he currently, but not for much longer, shared with his quadmate went quickly enough and he slowly settled. The mostly black and silver mech that greeted him swept his smaller frame into a close embrace, careful of his wings.

“It went well, I take it?” the larger mech rumbled, stepping back slightly to allow the door to close. Small sensor panels perked in interest, he waited for an answer.

“Yes, it went quite well. We have plans to make now, though, and I would like to have something to eat before we begin that discussion. You were able to join as well?”

The larger mech hummed lowly to comfort his slightly higher strung quadmate even as he released him and reached to place a small, freshly poured cube of mid-grade into his hand. “Affirmative. I’m to report in next orn after clearing all of my affairs up.”

Prowl relaxed back into the talented fingers that began to knead at his armor plating, coaxing it to flare enough for the blunt digits to slip under and rub against wires and other vital components in a soothing manner. He slowly relaxed, his frame loosening even as he leaned back into the treatment and began purring. “That is not a very long time to construct our plans, Barricade. If you do not stop, I will not be able to begin in a timely manner.”

He chuckled just beside the slighter mech’s audial. “I already know that you have a fair amount of plans and back ups, Prowl, and I trust you to contact me whenever something needs to change. I just have to pack the few things I’m planning to take. The rest, I’m leaving with you. You got me?”

Prowl dropped his helm back to smile at his quadmate, their sparks pushing affection back and forth between them. “I got you.”


	3. The Given Assignment

Chapter Three: The Given Assignment

 

Barricade had left three orns before and the small set of rooms that they had occupied had felt far too big for just him since then. There was little to do, his work permit having technically expired even before he had gone in to sign up for the Autobots. He had already finished all of the book files that he had left after they had lost their access to any but those that resided at the public file lender, which were now also out of their reach as the fees had become outrageous. The entirety of their miniscule flat was now spotless as well and just awaited his leavetaking to be ready for another tenant. He was still waiting to be contacted by the Iaconian Training Coordinator, however. One would think that time would be of the essence with getting a new recruit placed as the battlefront was in dire need of more mecha, as Prowl well knew from his research.

He was searching through his compacted, portable subspace compartment, looking for a couple of small tools that he would need if he was to do some crystal work, when his comm unit pinged him with a notice. A new message had arrived and the only one that he was expecting was from the Autobots. Without delay, he opened the message, barely glancing at the sender except to verify that it was who he thought it would be.

 

_ Greetings Recruit Prowl, _

_ It is with light spark that we welcome you to the Autobots. Your arrival is greatly anticipated and is expected within the next three orn. You are to report to the Iacon Autobot Training Academy and, from there, to the Iaconian Training Coordinator where you will be assigned to a frontline training unit. If you require any assistance, please contact your closest recruitment center. Again, we welcome you to the Autobots. _

_ The Autobot High Council Training Coordinator _

_ Verify _

 

That was very professional of them, something he had not been expecting from the faction, though the signature provided the reason for the difference. He hummed thoughtfully, repacking what he had removed from the subspace compartment so that he could leave the small flat. The owner would appreciate the vacancy to offer and he could, soon enough, have his basic needs met by the army instead of through his own stock of credits.

The extra, external, subspace compartment was compacted back down and slipped into one of his smaller subspaces, which opened on his hip. He took one last look around to be sure that everything had been removed before he stepped out of the front room and sent a short message to the owner of the flat to inform the femme that he was finally moved out and to advise her that, since he had not met all the terms of the lease, she was to keep the entirety of the credit deposit they had put down so long ago on the flat. Even as he folded down into his alt mode, a very sporty model that appeared quite predatory with the sharp angles and sleek design, he received a ping back from the femme accepting the information and wishing him well.

Many mecha swept out of his way as he raced through Altihex and along the throughway to Iacon. The Enforcers that sent identification pings his way quickly backed off after receiving the information contained within, knowing that he had been trained for maneuvering at the speeds he was traveling at. Once away from the city, he transformed and stretched his wings to their full length before pulling them in close to launch his frame into the air, mag levs in his feet engaging to propel him a bit further into the air before his wings snapped open and down to take him higher. Switching his mag levs off, he rose higher into the atmosphere with deep down strokes of his wings. One of the higher winds finally caught him and propelled his frame towards the far city of Iacon. It would take the same amount of time for him to fly the majority of the way as it would take for him to drive it, but he preferred to take to the air as he was unlikely to be able to for a long while. Most mecha did not consider that his frame was fully flight capable nor believe that he could suffer from the same sky craving that Seekers did. It came from no one having any information about his frame type outside of a few old studies and the oral stories that were passed down about the nomads that lived in the mountains outside of Praxus.

Several joors - and much sightseeing - later, he landed beside the throughway and stretched, his need for flight satisfied for the time being. Prowl took the time to resettle his feathers before he pulled his wings close and went through his transformation down into his vehicle mode. The rest of his drive went quickly. The route between the two cities was close to straight and did not have many hills, nothing like any of the roads leading into the city of Praxus. Nearing the gates, he transformed back, shook out his wings, and stepped into the queue.

Iacon was a popular city and, with the Autobots using it as their main base of operation, many mecha were passing in and out of the gates. From what he had read, the city of Iacon had been forced to hire more mecha to man the checkpoints and grant entrance. It had helped to solve their unemployment problem. Prowl did not see the appeal. The city itself was quite flat and far too ordered, the exact opposite of Praxus and its surrounding countryside.

The wait to enter the city took even longer than the drive and flight there did, giving him far too much time to mull over his decisions and find faults that truly were not there. In the meantime, he had gone over the plans again with Barricade over a secure comm line and then settled down to wait, returning to the game that he had downloaded several orn before at the recruitment center in Kalis.

Finally, he reached the beginning of the line and was admitted into the city after a short bit of paperwork was completed. With the map given him by the mech that had allowed his entrance, he found where the Autobot Training Academy was located and set off in that direction at a fast walking pace. It would be better to familiarize himself with the area before he was stuck within walls for an unknown amount of time. The brightness of the artist district was quite welcoming, even though the smells, fields, and sights were unfamiliar. Everyone was more absorbed in their own lives here than in Praxus, few greetings called out between friends and no small booths lining the roadways in an attempt to draw in customers that otherwise would not even know that the shop was there.

“Designation?” he was asked as he took the steps up to the entrance to the Autobot Training Academy and was stopped by a navy and cream femme that was stationed there.

“Prowl.”

She scanned a list internally, her optics dimming slightly. “Greetings. You will go inside and to the left at the end of the hall. From there, it will be the third door on the right. That will take you to the Coordinator’s office, where you will receive your training assignment.”

“Thank you,” he stated with a short nod and dip of his wings before he stepped inside and followed her directions. Again, he had to wait to be admitted as there were enough recruits coming in that the office employees were all pressed into helping to get them all processed through. After the number of joors he had already been standing, he was looking forward to the dark cycles and being able to be able to even take a seat.

Eventually, it was his turn. He stepped forward and was greeted by a hulking orange mech with small black details that would have seemed to be more at home on the battlefield than in an office. Perhaps they were truly desperate.

“Heavylif’ at yer service. May I get yer des’nation?” the mech asked, pulling out a new datapad even before he looked up to take stock of the mech standing before him.

“My designation is Prowl,” he answered.

“A’ight,” he said, pulling up the mech’s public records that had been submitted from the recruitment center he had signed up in. “Says ‘ere that yer gon’ be par’ of tha frontliners. Int’restin’. Yer trainin’ off’cer’s Mismatch. She’s won’erful wit’ mos’ e’ery’un tha’s in ‘er unit an’ she gets mos’ of tha spec’lized trainin’ fer tha fron’liners.” He punched in a few fields just by looking at the new recruit standing before him before giving the mech the information he would need for the dark cycles. “Yer room’s gon’ be down tha hall further and the last door on tha lef’. I’s a larg’ room tha’ ‘ouses yer ‘ntire unit. Go down ta tha nex’ ‘allway an’ down to the righ’. It’ll open up ta tha dispens’ry. Ya’ll ge’ yer rations ‘ere at tha beginnin’ of tha firs’ ligh’ cycle and tha firs’ dar’ cycle. Any ques’ions?”

“No questions,” Prowl replied, taking the datapad handed him by the mech.

“I rec’men’ tha’ ya go get settled ‘en. If ya nee’ any rations, ya still ‘ave time ta pick some up. I’d do tha’ anyway. Officer Mismatch’ll pick up yer unit from tha room yer stayin’ in ‘bout a joor af’er tha b’ginnin’ of tha firs’ ligh’ cycle.”

Prowl thanked the mech before leaving the office and heading to the dispensary to pick up his ration. There were only a few breems before it was time to get a ration in any case, being the last joor of the last dark cycle by the time he had finally made it through all of the lines and traffic that had plagued him all orn. Perhaps Heavylift had meant that he was to begin training the next orn, but he had no intention of waiting that long if he was not required to. There was little point in putting it off as he was confident in his ability to keep up with whatever the unit was to be doing.

He took his time in consuming his ration, brushing affection across the spark bond with his quadmate and sharing his impatience as well. It was not something he was willing to outwardly show in anything other than his wing movements, which were sharp twitches of the long feathers at the tips of his wings. Barricade soothed his impatience softly, pushing calm back at him along with his own affection. His wings slowly settled closer to his back, though his feathers still twitched every so often. A joor for energy consumption seemed to be excessive to him, especially if there was not a long line like there seemed to be for almost everything he had so far done in Iacon.

Not much later, he stood outside of the room that he had been directed towards, having already stepped inside and looked around. It was empty except for a couple of recharging mechs on two of the far berths.

The blue and cream femme that had greeted him at the entrance sauntered towards him, her optics tracing over his frame lightly. It was an assessing look instead of an interested one despite how she had gone about it.

“Prowl,” she greeted, coming to a stop on the opposite side of the door frame from him. “Welcome to the Autobots. I am Mismatch and you are one of my new recruits. Is there anything that I should know about you or your frame before we begin training?”

Straight and to the point. It was something that he could appreciate from the femme.

“There is little about my frame or myself that is not included in the report from the recruitment center, Officer. Is there anything that you wish to ask of me?”

She hummed, but did not ask any questions. “You are my only recruit this session. How would you like to go about this? From what Vicegrip shared, you do not truly need any training in weaponry or in hand-to-hand and most everyone could stand to take a few lessons from you. Personally, I would have put you through officer training, whether for a specialty or just for a frontline unit. Since you are just to be a frontliner, however, we will have to do some physical training as well as some tactical training. We will start with the former.”

It was good that his plating did not puff up in pride nor that he showed any objections. Considering what he was able to do, per his evaluation, it was a miracle that he was not as conceited as he had the right to be. She had never had any dealings with mecha that did not act as if they deserved everything they had if they had the skills he did. As long as he continued the way he was and showed the same degree of competence as he had at evaluation, he would be moving on to the frontlines in short order. In fact, if she could have, she would have had his training skipped and had him assigned directly to the frontlines. The only thing that had stopped her were the regulations that required any mecha that was not military caste of some type go through training.

As it was, she spent several orns with him, mainly working with him as far as she could on tactics. He showed a surprising aptitude for them, which she was sure the base he would be assigned to would use to their advantage. They sparred some as well, though she learned quickly that he had no need for instruction in the weapons she kept in her training room. She enjoyed that time instead, thankful that she was not trying to instruct a scientist in the every orn use of a blaster that resembled the model that she had learned how to shoot when she was still in her youngling frames. Mismatch was almost sad to see him leave after she cleared him for active duty.

At the ceremony, he was given the Autobot brand and his assignment with little fanfare. The lack of over-formality suited him, for all that he spoke as if he was reading out of a textbook instead of like he had learned anything from his Creator or Sire.

“Where are you headed?” she asked as the ceremony concluded and they were again allowed to mingle as they felt.

“It appears that I am to be assigned to Slaughter City. Do you know much about the area?” he asked, going over the orders that had been both handed to him as well as databurst. “Or any of the mecha that are stationed there?”

Mismatch hummed quietly, contemplating what she could share with a mech that would be entering as a newly trained recruit. “It’s in the thick of it,” she advised. “They’re down a fair number of mecha due to an unfortunate transfer that left them low just when they should not be. They’re holding up well despite that. As for the mecha stationed there, you’ll have to become quite comfortable around femmes. The base is about half mech and half femme in composition. And don’t let yourself get turned around by the frames of them either. There are several mechs with very slim builds just as there is at least one femme stationed there that is one of the biggest tanks we have in that area.”

“Are there any quirks about the landscape?”

“It’s an industrial area. About the most landscape you’ll get are some rolling hills outside of the city. The mecha who built the cities decided to put all industry on land that is more flat, with the exclusion of Tagan Heights, which was built there because of the proximity to resources. The rest of the industrial cities all require that the resources be shipped to them. Other than that, I know that it is close to the Badlands, so you will probably have to deal with some of the nomadic mecha there and the few predators that can survive there.” She paused to think if there was anything else that she could add, but did not have any further information, having never been there herself. “Do you need any help getting out there or do you need to pick up anything before you do?”

“As long as the Autobots are sending a transport out there, I believe that I should be okay getting out there, but I would not mind going out into Iacon for a little while to pick up a few things to take with me.” He looked at her in question, wings angling to add the question to the statement as he was unsure if he was allowed out of the training complex.

“You won’t have the time to go out there. The transport leaves in less than a joor and with the traffic out in Iacon you wouldn’t make it back in time. If it’s really important, I can pick whatever you wanted up and send it out on the next transport for you.”

His wings drooped minutely. That was disappointing, but what he had expected. “If you find anything interesting in regards to crystal growing or manipulation, I would be grateful to receive anything. As well, if you find any exotic spices or flavorings to be used in either cooking or confectionary preparation, that would be appreciated as well.”

“Spices, flavorings, and crystals,” she stated in summary. “Got it. I’ll take a look and see if there is anything. You find any good music files or small, exotic instruments out there, see if you can send them back to me. I’m always looking for things like that.”


	4. Slaughter City Frontline

Chapter Four: Slaughter City Frontline

 

Two other mecha disembarked at Slaughter City from the transport that was looping through the area from Iacon. One of the cargo hatches was also open, crates being hurriedly unloaded so that the ship could continue on to its next destination. He had not been in contact with either of them during his training and so did not have any idea what they had been sent there for. One of them appeared to be a mech returning from somewhere else as he was greeted with a smile and some playful ribbing as he headed into the base. The other, a mech that almost appeared to be a femme with how delicately he was framed, looked around before following after the other mech.

Prowl settled in to wait for his new corporal to emerge from the base, as he had been instructed to within his orders. He figured it would be best to not antagonize those who would be giving him orders as soon as he arrived or, at least, to aggravate them as little as he possibly could. Later, however, was a different matter. His quadmates had always asserted that he was a particularly aggravating mech at times, especially if he was unknown to someone.

He waited for approximately a breem, and watched the transport leave, before a large femme entered the hangar. She strode directly to him, acknowledging those that were working on unloading the crates of supplies as she was greeted.

“Prowl?” she asked, motioning for him to join her as she walked through to the other side of the hangar and out into the main base. “Welcome to Slaughter City, what little there is to welcome someone here. I won’t waste either of our time with pleasantries. Corporal Brakelight. You’re my newest recruit. Mismatch gave you a glowing recommendation, so you got sent to the thick of it. I have a strict training schedule. Every first dark cycle, my unit goes through training simulations. They are based on past battles. You are expected there for this one as well.” She waved toward a much slimmer mech that they were walking up to. “This is Tripper. He will get you orientated on base and make sure that you have all of the other information you will need. I will see you this dark cycle.”

He watched her leave from where he had been left standing beside the orange and golden yellow mech that appeared to be of Polyhexian origin.

“Welp, yer screwed,” Tripped stated fatalistically, pulling a datapad from subspace and shoving it into the winged mech’s hands. “She’s ‘ardes’ on new ‘cruits. Mos’ fail outta ‘er unit and then get ‘ssigned ta which c’n act’lly use ‘em.” He shrugged. “Ah’ll show ya ‘roun’. Base’s kin’a a bit ‘fusin’ if’n ya don’ know where yer ‘eaded. An’, jus’ so’s ya know, she wa’n’t jokin’ ‘bout trainin’. Now, where ya wanna star’ ‘ere?”

“Perhaps we should begin with the tour,” Prowl suggested, glancing at the datapad that he was now holding. His amber optics had lightened, giving away just how overwhelmed he was feeling at that moment. Barricade brushed up against his spark with his unwavering support, bringing Prowl’s awareness back to the mech that had been speaking to him. He curled into the warmth with a surge of delight. “I would hate to be late to training.”

Tripper chortled. “She’s qui’ tha scareh femme, righ’?”

“Quite,” he agreed, shaking himself out of his stupor.

“We’ll star’ wit’ tha ‘spens’ry an’ tha rec room. ‘Ey’re tha mos’ ‘portan’ places otha than yer room.” The smaller mech headed off to the west, along a wide hallway. “Tha wi’ ‘allways’re gonna lead ya ta tha main par’s ah base. Rec room and ‘spens’ry’re in tha middle’a tha firs’ floor. Secur’ty Centah’s righ’ ‘bove it wit’ tha res’a tha off’ces ‘roun’ it. Trainin’ rooms’re ‘roun’ tha centah on tha firs’ floor. Weapons room’s on tha nor’ si’a tha rec room. We bunk in tha buil’in’ ta tha sou’. I’s connec’ed ta tha main par’a base through a ‘allway, tunnel type’a thin’. ‘Ones’ly, we coul’ pro’ly jus’ give ya a map’a tha base an’ ya coul’ fin’ yer way ‘roun’, bu’ ya’d en’ up gettin’ ‘ttacked. Real easeh layout fer tha place.” They stopped in the large open area in the center of the first floor of the base.

It was quite easy to tell that this was the rec room. There were numerous couches and other forms of seating scattered around, tables were folded and stacked to the sides, and vid screens were circled off to the side - a configuration that led Prowl to believe that there were many competitions that required multiple players. Surprisingly, there was even a small cabinet that was propped open, revealing stacks upon stacks of board games and cards. In all, it was much better cared for than most of the rec rooms he had ever seen, both during his time in Black Ops and since he had joined the Autobots (the transport had stopped at a few bases over the dark cycles on their way to Slaughter City).

Tripper joined a small group of like-framed mecha as they entered, their chatter echoing through the mostly empty room. It was to be expected, being the middle of the second light cycle of the orn. While they spoke, Prowl wandered over to inspect the board games. He knew of few others who appreciated them as much as his Quad had, and so had not expected there to be any here. His wings flared a bit wider than their normal set and came forward to better gather data, both of what was in front of him as well as what was behind him.

As he pulled the containers out of the cabinet and inspected them before putting them down in several different stacks, someone came up behind him to see what he was doing. The variety of games they possessed was quite impressive, though nothing compared to the variety he and his quadmates had once owned. The mecha that was behind him shifted slightly and caused his wings to stiffen almost imperceptibly. It was an uncomfortable sensation to have someone standing behind him, staring at him. There had been no cutoff in the murmur of the Polyhexians’ conversation to indicate that they were concerned about whoever it was. Since they had not called out a welcome, the mecha was either someone they did not get along with or someone from their table. As it was quite difficult to become a mecha that Polyhexians, as a group, disliked enough to ignore to such an extent, it was likely to be the latter.

As a hand reached toward his wing, he tucked them close and spun, dagger extending from his forearm plating in preparation for an attack. He encountered a small, slim femme, magenta in color, her arm still outstretched in an attempt to touch him. Her silver optics were spiralled wide in her surprise.

“They got sensors?” she asked, dumbfounded. “But they don’t look like they could!”

The knife retracted into his plating as he straightened, careful of the placement of his feet and wings as he did so. “My wings do have sensors,” he confirmed. “Why would they not?”

“Because they have to be decorative! There aren’t any frames like this and ya only see wings like those in plays and tha like!” She waved her hands as she spoke, apparently to emphasize her point, though Prowl could not see it.

“It is an almost extinct subclass of the Praxian frame type,” he stated, sending a soothing pulse toward his quadmate. Barricade had felt calm fall over him, a sure sign of his distress and mental state as he smoothed out in such a way whenever he was going into a situation that could prove dangerous, and was prepared to back him up if there were to be a need. That ability was a quirk of their bond, allowing them to absorb information, move as if they were the other mech, and also provide further spark energy to keep a fight going for longer than many mecha would suspect for their particular frame types.

“But don’t no medics know how to repair a frame like that. Why would ya ever choose it?” she asked, still beyond befuddled by the mech that stood before her. He was pretty to look at, sure, but there was no way his frame could ever be considered anything other than decorational. She would learn that was not the case with this particular mech over the next while, but was sure at that point in their acquaintance. “I’s jus’ not practical!”

He hummed lowly. It was true that his frame was not what most would consider practical as so few knew of its capabilities, which his training had only expanded on. However, to come right out and say such a thing was not what he had been expecting of anyone. He had hoped to prove himself, at least a little bit, before being forced to confront the prejudice he normally faced from everyone around him.

“I have training relatively soon. We shall see how I hold up in that,” he replied, partially dodging the questions and partially letting them know that there would be a way to observe him. If this base was anything like any of the others he had recently been in, then there would be cameras set up in almost all of the rooms, sometimes multiple, and there would even be an observation deck that mecha would be able to watch from.

She cringed. “Corp’ral Brakeligh’s gonna chew ya up an’ send ya runnin’. Def’nitely don’t envy ya. ‘Er trainin’s diff’cult ta say tha leas’. An’ ‘er team,” she trailed off, shaking her helm. There was little that could be said about them that would not send the mech running the other way. Most of those that had been told of them before training had requested to be switched to another unit even before they had participated in the scheduled exercise as there was little to recommend them. They had a high mortality rate for new mecha, if they even lasted long enough to make it out onto the battlefield with them, and were more rough and ragged than most anyone had encountered in their entire activations.

Prowl shrugged fatalistically. There was little that he could do to change the opinion of anyone about his frame until he could demonstrate just how well he functioned and the degree of his training. It had always been an asset in the past, but he was beginning to find it annoying to be so underestimated by mecha that had only seen him for the first time less than a joor before. Barricade sent him reassurance and his unwavering support and affection. Nothing would be as it had been before Traction and Drivetrain’s deactivations and he would have to adapt. It was much slower going for Prowl than it was for Barricade, however. They were just different in respect to their adaptability in social interactions. He had never been required to change that much, whereas his quadmate had changed much between different assignments.

“We will just have to see how training goes,” he stated before dismissing her and turning back to his inspection of the board games, sensors collecting data on his surroundings the entire time.


End file.
